


I Know We're Alone Now

by Le_kunokimchi



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Based on synopsis and teaser pics for season two, Ben Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Gen, Ghost Ben Hargreeves, Horrance, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus Hargreeves Whump, Klaus Hargreeves-centric, Post-Canon, Pseudo-Incest, Sorry Not Sorry, no beta we die like ben, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24805102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Le_kunokimchi/pseuds/Le_kunokimchi
Summary: He tells himself not to think about the past and what-ifs. But his mind tends to drift at times; especially when a year ago today, he was with his family stopping the Apocalypse.It’s really all numbing and depressing and not at all good for his state-of-mind, but he does it anyway. Just like he shouldn’t be smoking this cigarette. Just like he shouldn’t be contemplating jumping off this bridge. Just like he shouldn’t be praying that when he does, he doesn’t wake up.For now, he takes another drag.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves/Klaus Hargreeves (implied), Dave/Klaus Hargreeves (referenced), Klaus Hargreeves & Everyone
Comments: 4
Kudos: 91





	I Know We're Alone Now

**Author's Note:**

> This idea is based on entirely what I read on a news article about the synopsis for season two as well as what I gathered from teaser pictures (could be correct theories could not, who knows how credible the website was). I just added Horrance because I love it and haven't written it in awhile. SOrry not SOrry they baby

A lengthy middle-aged man sat on the ledge of an old stone bridge, his feet dangling precariously below him and a cigarette situated between his fingers. He stared out over the small, mostly dried up, creek with disinterest: disinterested in the lack of a view, disinterested in the soft moans of ghosts, disinterested in the setting sun, disinterested in the dry heat of the Texan air, but mostly, disinterested in the precious gift that is life.

He took a drag.

There was really no point to his existence, was there?  
He didn’t belong in this realm; he was the gum on the bottom of society’s shoe before the Apocalypse and now was a background character to a southwestern reality TV series. There was really no purpose behind him being here, behind him taking on small seance-related jobs every now and then to give him enough cash to pay the motel clerk and buy a one-person meal at the gas station. Nobody knew him here, which was kind of nice at times, but also made social interactions quite strained. He wasn’t the same desperate-for-sexual-affection hooker/junkie he was back then; times have changed, quite literally, and with it, so has he. Sure, a good hook-up would have been appreciated at times, but he had strings now: strings attached to one man and one man only. And even though that man was in a different world than he, he sure as hell wasn’t going to be able to throw away his love and loyalty; especially not to get it on with some random person off the streets, that’s just disrespectful.  
So artificial affection, faux care… it wasn’t enough anymore… maybe it was in the alleys of the big city but now he craves something real, as well as something from living people. Something he once had, in ounce amounts, but it was enough; it was definitely more than he has now. Something that got him out of bed in the morning, something that made him want to be a good useful person, something that made him care about others and their wellbeing. Something like (excluding Ben because he is always there) his family.  
His fucked-up, dysfunctional, rambunctious, weird, but quirky family. Sure, they argued a lot; and sure, they too treated him like junkie scum some of the time (most of the time) but they were getting better. They were learning. They were trying. And although they really didn’t like him 97% of the time (probably more like 95% for Diego) and they were quite annoying, he loved them nonetheless; he would walk through fire for any one of them or multiple times if it meant all of them and he would give up his life right now without a single hesitation just to see them again…

He exhaled, watching the ashy mist integrate into the warm spring air with half-lidded eyes. He was looking right into the direction of the fading sun but didn’t care enough to put on the sunglasses that were pulling back his shaggy hair. He’d most likely regret the decision when he starts seeing spots later; not because it bothers him, it really didn’t, but because Ben would scold him about taking better care of himself.

He could try and sacrifice himself to magically save everyone, but it wouldn’t work. They were gone. He didn’t know where; he didn’t know when. He didn’t even know if any of them were alive (he is only slightly assured by the fact that he has yet to see any of their ghosts) or if they were simply lost to the rift of the space-time continuum. One moment, they’re together, holding hands, shrinking into children, fazing through a glowing blue portal; the next, they’re swirling and shouting and separating and then falling falling falling until suddenly he plops down into the desert sand with a loud thud. None of them in sight, the blip in time vanished, and dreaded withdrawal symptoms creeping back into his twenty-nine-year-old body. For two days he wandered around in search of some indication of where he was...when he was. On the third, he discovered an urban city and a newspaper. It was 1961. He was in Dallas, Texas. He was still in his adult body and still going cold-turkey. 

He brought the smoke to his lips and took a long drag, inhaling until his lungs screamed for him to stop, until his brain grew foggier with nicotine and insufficient oxygen. 

It was another week, completely at the mercy of noisy ghosts and quiet southwestern strangers, before his most favorite deceased brother appeared. Together, they spent three months in search of their other siblings. To no avail. So they tried summoning them, staying put in their old but cheap motel room for another six months before they gave up entirely. It was hopeless. There was no point. They were gone. And he was here… alone… but with Ben. And most of the time, he thinks that’s really all he needs because it has been him and Ben against the world since day one; but at the same time, Ben was dead. And although he has gotten much better with his powers now that he’s painfully sober, he still misses the warmth of another person at times; he still misses somebody else to talk to, a new perspective that isn’t biased from years of watching him self-destruct. But he still loves Ben, even when he’s being a real nagging pain in the ass. And Ben still loves him, even when he’s being a stubborn asshole. They make it work, they work it out; they’ve literally only got each other in a time like this and have grown even closer (if it was even humanly possible… they soon found out it was) because of it. 

The exhale that escaped his lips was heavy, weighted with mixed emotions.

Their reunion was a chaotic one: full of hearty crying and shouting of accidental confessions as they argued about why Ben would even want to come back and laughing stupidly at the obliviousness of both of their feelings and then a life-changing embrace that neither expected to actually work (And then Ben was kissing every inch of his face as he sobbed about how proud he was of him for staying sober and how much he missed him and how relieved he is to see him and how he never wants to be separated from his side like that ever again; and of course, Klaus took all the affection and praises he could get because his heart was swelling with relief just as much as his). 

He took another drag.

But if Ben was the only person (if you can even really count a spirit as a person) in his life, why not just drop the tiring corporeality power mumbo jumbo and just join him on the other side? There was, after all, a small chance that his other siblings were there too; then he’d truly have everyone he loves in his life at hand’s reach. 

Another exhale.

Sadly, that led to his other problem: he didn’t belong in that realm either. Even if he were to commit suicide (much to Six’s horror and adamant dissuasion), God would send him back. She always sent him back. She didn’t want him there, he didn’t belong there. But hell, seriously lady? He didn’t belong in this fricking timeline either but he was still stuck here.

A deeper drag. 

He has always had one foot in the door, but never the luxury of placing both firmly within it. Even when he died on the floor of the rave all those months ago, he merely got a taste of what the afterlife was like. And at the time, it was absolutely horrible because his Hitler-reincarnation father was there.

A shakier exhale.

What would it have been like if it was actually Dave in that bizarre barbershop? Would God have taken pity on him and let him stay? (Pfft just the thought was laughably unrealistic). Would he have said his final goodbyes and still ultimately tie severed strings with the long-awaiting Number Six? (He would like to think so). Or would he have been unable to let go and move on and consequently dismiss Ben’s feelings? (That would break him, just as much as it would crush Ben). He’s not sure. But he has Ben now, and Dave is somewhere on the other side of the world fighting in Vietnam. Has Dave even technically met him yet in this timeline? Or is he already dead? Geez, time travel is confusing.

Another drag. 

He tells himself not to think about the past and what-ifs. But his mind tends to drift at times; especially when a year ago today, he was with his family stopping the Apocalypse. He misses what he used to have, he dreams of what could have been. It’s really all numbing and depressing and not at all good for his state-of-mind, but he does it anyway. Just like he shouldn’t be smoking this cigarette. Just like he shouldn’t be contemplating jumping off this bridge. Just like he shouldn’t be praying that when he does, he doesn’t wake up.

A drawn-out exhale.

He would like to live a happy life. He would like to take advantage of this new start he has been given, and while he has in some aspects, it’s painful for him to do without his family. Or at least the closure that comes with knowing where his family is. He can handle death, he has been around it his entire life; and while he most certainly doesn’t desire any of his siblings’ ghosts popping up out of the blue, at least he’d know what happened to them. At least he wouldn’t feel so helpless and useless just sitting here not knowing if they’re in danger, not knowing if they need him. He had just got them all back, he wasn’t ready to lose them all again. But fate had other plans and by now, he has learned to roll with the punches. 

He went to take another drag, but the cigarette was plucked from his lips and tossed down the ravine without a second’s hesitation. Klaus sighed heavily before he turned towards the ghost standing beside him, not having to look up to know that he was giving him a disapproving frown.

“Is this where you’ve been for the last two hours?” Ben asks, not quite accusatory but not entirely inquisitive either.  
Klaus nodded solemnly, shifting his gaze back to the disappearing rays of light that now barely peaked over the horizon.  
“You should have said something, I would have come with you. I got worried when I noticed you were no longer in the bathtub.”  
“Sorry,” he mumbled absently.  
He heard shifting as Six sat down next to him, Four taking the opportunity to rest his head upon his brother’s now corporeal shoulder. Ben’s arm casually wrapped around his back, staring at him with his brow furrowed in concern.  
“Are you… alright?”  
Klaus nods.  
“You… you thinking about them again?”  
Another nod.  
“Me too,” Ben mutters quietly, his voice becoming gentler. “I mean, being a ghost is one thing but not knowing where they are…” he trails, having to swallow down the emotions bubbling in his throat.  
Klaus turned to him with a sad smile, exhaustion in his eyes as he said, “I miss them.”  
Six gave a similar expression in return, placing a tender kiss to his forehead. “I do too. But I think… I think we’ll see them again someday. We just gotta be patient. We all worked too hard for this to be the end and I doubt Five would travel back in time just to lose us as he saved our asses.”  
“Yeah,” the man agreed, a fond look crossing his face as he thought about his assassin brother rapidly scribbling down equations while nursing his fifth cup of coffee, “You’re right. He’s too full of himself to accept defeat. We just gotta wait it out. Wait for something to change. Like we always have.”

He’d wait for his siblings’ ultimate return, no matter how long it may take. Whether it be in the form of an apparition or living breathing flesh, he knows that they’ll make an appearance one day. But until then, he has Ben by his side and a somewhat decent life at his fingertips; he just has to stop going through the motions and start living them. That’s what they always wanted him to do, right? Pick up his pieces, get his life together? He can do that; he can do it for them, he can do it for Dave, he can do it for Ben. Hell, maybe he should even get a driver’s license and a car and a house and a real job. 

He might have thought that he was alone now, but he has Ben.  
And they, his family, might think they’re alone now, but he and Ben will be waiting.  
After all, the Hargreeves can never truly be alone in the world, there will always be someone thinking about them. There is no rest for the wicked.


End file.
